


Slowing Down

by InventorBenny



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU where I make the rules, DID Widowmaker, F/F, Pre-Abduction Amélie, b/c the timeline is b.a.d.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-19 17:45:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8219672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InventorBenny/pseuds/InventorBenny
Summary: This is the story of Lena and Amélie... and Tracer and Widowmaker.





	1. Chapter 1

_Beep_

_Beep_

_Beep_

_Beep_

Lena regained consciousness to hear a heartrate monitor.

 

She opened her eyes, feeling heat on her skin for the first time in forever. That was the first thing she noticed.

 

The second was that everything was so much more yellow than she was used to. The trees out the window weren’t grey. There was a balloon in her room. Heart shaped.

 

It was red. On the table next to her was a clipboard, with a dark brown wood for a back, and next to that was a bouquet of flowers, green, pink, and yellow. _Get well soon!_ read the attached note in Winston’s sloppy doctor handwriting.

 

A nurse walked in, pulling a television screen.

 

He turned to smile at her, his skin the color of caramel.

 

“It’s nice to see you’re awake, Agent Oxton.”

 

She only looked down at her hands, mentally absorbing the cream color.

 

The television the man had rolled out clicked to life, showing a gorilla, wearing a custom fitted labcoat and scraping the peanut butter out of a jar with a massive finger.

 

“Winston!” Lena exclaimed. Her voice was hoarse, from months of disuse. The two had never actually spoken prior to this moment. Lena, being unable to vocalize in her state of what the doctors (discluding Winston, at her request) had called “chronal disassociation,” had to learn sign language to communicate.

 

The gorilla adjusted his spectacles, “Miss Oxton. I’m glad to see you’re well.” His voice was deep and gravelly, a deep rumbling coming from his throat.

 

“What happened?” Lena asked, “The last thing I can think of is putting on the chronal accelerator.”

 

Winston grimaced as he crushed the jar and squeezed it into a space in his recycling can. Though his fur was black, the blue light that came from the monitor on his end toned him a navy color. “Well,” began the ape, “it seems that when we strapped you into it, your vitals caught up with how long you were missing. It was a real emergency, considering you hadn’t eaten, slept, or drank for months.

 

“You passed out, and we had to pump you full of all sorts of nutrients. You’ve been back for…” he flipped through a day planner. It was purple.

 

“Sixteen days,” Winston said, finishing.

 

Another man walked into the room. He was wearing his dress uniform. The medals over his breast pocket were nearly a rainbow. It was only missing orange and purple.

 

 _Orange._ Lena remembered orange. Now she missed it.

 

The man knocked on the doorframe, and as he spoke in a heavy French accent, Lena recognized him.

 

“Is this a bad time?” asked Gérard Lacroix, member of the most elite squadron in Overwatch.

 

“Who’s there?” Winston asked, leaning closer to the lens of his webcam.

 

The nurse spun the television to place both Lena and Agent Lacroix in frame.

 

“Ah, um, Agent Lacroix. No, actually, I don’t have anything else. Lena, I’ll talk to you later, Alright?”

 

She could only nod. The colors were starting to be overwhelming. The new man’s hair was a light yellow, like hay.

 

The nurse shut off the screen and left the room tugging it.

 

The man took a second to sit in the nearby armchair. He blocked out some of the window.

 

“Hello, Agent Oxton.”

 

Lena didn’t respond.

 

“Is everything alright, Agent?”

 

She nodded and took a deep breath, before tapping her throat, “Been a while. Throat is sore.”

 

Agent Lacroix nodded and leaned onto his knees. “You’ve caused quite a stir.”

 

No need to respond to that. He continued, “They’re giving you a Medal of Honor. Since they aren’t sure when you’ll recover, a date isn’t set yet, but, um, here,” he gave her an envelope, “That’s half of the reason I’m here.”

 

“The other half?” asked Lena.

 

He scratched his head and eyed the flowers. “This is… a little awkward, Agent Oxton. Technically,” the man said, “you’re still an Overwatch agent. Normally, that would mean returning to your old job.”

 

 _Jet pilot._ Lena thought, remembering the moment that she warped out of time.

 

“Considering the circumstances, however there’s some general agreement that what you need right now is some… eh… rest and recuperation, oui?”

 

Lena nodded.

 

“We’ve also agreed that for your bravery in such a dire situation, we should promote you. Into a more elite squad. Um, my squad.”

 

He passed her an envelope, and her eyes turned to his. “What’s this then?”

 

“An application. Send this in before you return to work, and you’ll have the position.”

 

“May I,” she cleared her throat, “May I ask what position?”

 

His smile was small, but noticeable. “There are two. One is intel expert. The other is operative. Intel expert is a nice desk job. Lots of remote communication and data crunching. All of your tests suggest that you’d be good at this. Operative would be… similar to what you’ve done in the past. Snatch ‘n’ grabs, assassinations, espionage. Footwork.

 

“Of course, as part of the squad you get all the privileges that go along with that, no matter which you pick. It’s the upper ring of Overwatch. Jack Morrison, Gabriel Reyes, Ana Amari. Lots of press, lots of socializing,” as he paused, his smile got a bit wider, “not to mention monetary benefits.

 

“I will leave you to decide,” Agent Lacroix said, standing and stretching. When he reached the door, he turned back to look at Lena.

 

“By the way, Agent,” he said, “no matter which box you check, you are still  very brave. No one will blame you for taking a desk job.”

 

He left.

 

She looked down at the shining orange Overwatch insignia stuck on the envelope.

 

 

 


	2. Turquoise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena is recognized by Overwatch, and she meets a very interesting group of people for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you follow my other fic, To The Stars, you'll know that I don't post because of school. I'm taking a break next semester, so hopefully I'll be able to update more!

Lena straightened her tie. The fabric of her dress colors scratched against her skin. She fidgeted and squirmed, conscious of how uncomfortable she looked. Mirrors never lied. Her hair, as usual, refused to cooperate, and stuck out at strange angles. Try as she might, no amount of foundation could cover the freckles littering her cheeks. She pocketed her aviators, and looked out of the hospital window, down to the waiting chauffer. It was time for her to leave.

 

 _Maybe if it weren’t overcast_ , she mused, _Maybe then everything would be alright._ Everything was too washed out, too pale, too bland, and too grey.

 

Her Chronal Accelerator vibrated under her shirt, giving her suit a misshapen form around her torso, and stretching the fabric in odd places.

 

Today was meant to be special. She was being rewarded for _Exemplary Courage in Times of Duress_ , the official award for those Overwatch agents who had been wronged by the agency in some way and became lawsuit hazards.

 

It didn’t happen often enough to be common, but the occasional lab mishap was enough to warrant an award for those few.

 

It was just Lena’s crummy luck.

 

The car ride was nearly an hour long, and an intolerable one at that. The longer the drive, the dimmer the colors seemed to get. The chauffer either refused to have a full conversation, was overtired, or simply wasn’t comfortable with strangers. A problem which was always a possibility, even if it wasn’t one Lena normally faced. Her suit was still tight and itchy.

 

A fountain stood in front of the building, and the colored lights shining onto it acted as a booster to Lena’s mood, if only a small one. The statue in the middle depicted a feminine form, sprinting and holding a torch, spraying water rather than fire. Blue and orange, along with pink, glowed from the water, giving the statue a sense of cheer that seemed out of place in the grey surroundings.

 

Lena entered, a small buffer of joy left over from the fountain. Ambient light changed from grey to saturated yellow, the daisy-color walls reflecting the light from the sconces, as the door guards let her in. Elaborate plastic chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The bottom half of each wall was a maroon, with dark wooden floors giving a warm and elegant feel to the hall.

 

There was a polite tap on her shoulder. Lena spun, and was met with an aged, yet handsome face.

 

“Commander Morrison!” Lena exclaimed.

 

He chuckled. “Agent Oxton. It’s an honor.”

 

“The honor is all mine, I’m sure,” she replied, shaking his hand, “I didn’t realize such high profile agents would be here.”

 

He laughed again. “Please, you and I are coworkers now. And if it’s safety you’re worried about, don’t worry, I have a great bodyguard,” he said, gesturing to a dark-skinned man behind him.

 

“Ha ha ha,” said the man in a deadpan, as he rolled his eyes. He shook her hand too. “Agent Reyes. Pleasure to meet you. I’ll be working with you also.”

 

Lena tilted her head, “I don’t recognize you from the poster?”

 

Agent Reyes withered as Morrison Piped up, “He took too long on his eyeliner and missed the shoot.”

 

“It just makes me more comfortable, okay? And that’s not why I’m… up yours, Jack.” he added as he stared into his drink. It appeared to be a dark golden-brown whiskey. Lena had the brief thought that it matched his skin before dismissing that as inappropriate.

 

“Don’t look now, here comes the show-pony,” Commander Morrison said, gesturing to behind Lena. She turned to see the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, with long-and-coily black hair that fell around her shoulders and down to the middle of her back, and skin dark as coffee and cream, wearing a long turquoise dress with a slit up the leg. Though she was wearing heels, Lena still suspected that this woman was much taller than herself. Next to the woman—perhaps goddess—was agent Lacroix.

 

“That’s not a very nice thing to call her,” Lena mused quietly.

 

“I was talking about _Mr._ Lacroix,” said CD Morrison.

 

“Agent Oxton!” bellowed the man’s accented voice. He shook her hand and offered a warm smile. “It is nice to see you looking better,” his brow furrowed nearly imperceptibly as he spoke quieter, “I hope you have come to a decision?”

 

“Intel,” she mouthed.

 

He smiled again. “Excellent! Allow me to introduce you to my other half, Amélie.”

 

Amélie covered her mouth and cheeks as she stuck her hand out. Lena could have sworn she turned ever-so-slightly redder. “Hallo,” the goddess said in a near-whisper.

 

Lena took her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 

Amélie looked at the floor and muttered some French. Their eyes met once more. Hers were a light brown, nearly matching the upper walls. “Very little – not much English,” she said, holding her fingers close together.

 

“It’s fine, love!” Lena said, “My name’s Lena.”

 

“It is good to meet you!”

 

Their hands were still intertwined. Amélie tucked her lip between her teeth as she examined the curve of Lena’s hand (an act which was a possible fabrication of Lena’s own mind).

 

“Let us… Go to the table,” said Amélie, pulling along Lena, “You have met Angela and Ana!”

 

Her brow furrowed, her lips pursed, and her eyes scrunched up. “Not. You have _not_ met Angela and Ana.”

 

Lena nodded, the skin of her face growing warm. “Yes!” she said. _I am_ so _gay,_ she thought. She was peripherally aware of CD Morrison elbowing Agent Lacroix, and saying “You’d better watch, Gérard, or she’ll steal your wife away.”

 

 _God I hope so,_ came the stray thought from a selfish corner of Lena’s mind, before she beat it down.

 

At the table was a young, very pale nurse, along with an insanely large musclebound man, a teenager using a phone under the table, and a woman, not quite young anymore.

 

The eldest woman introduced herself as Ana Amari, sniper and, according to her, “long-range medic,” the younger woman, Angela Ziegler, gave a wry smile and simply said: “Close-up medic.” The man, Reinhardt, described himself as a rocket scientist and professional skirmisher.

 

“This here,” Agent Amari said, “Is my daughter, Phara.”

 

The girl held up a peace sign. 

 

 

 

Hours later, Reinhardt had gotten into a very heated argument with Phara about how rockets work. Phara seemed to be getting things wrong on purpose to irritate and provoke the inebriated goliath. Not to say, of course, that there was anything that Lena could understand, aside from the occasional glances that Phara was shooting at the drunken Doctor Ziegler.

 

Across the table was Amélie.

 

Their eyes locked and Lena waved.

 

Amélie smiled and covered her mouth.

 

A smile was a good look on her.

 

 ------

 

Lena was finally called up, finally, after a short highlight reel of her accomplishments, and a gleaming silver badge presented to her. Though the stage lights trained on her were bright, she could make out the gargantuan, clapping, hands of Reinhardt, the polite clapping of Ziegler, Reyes, and Amari, Morrison and Lacroix clapping enthusiastically. Lena could even see the glow of Pharah’s phone slapping against her hand.

 

She saw the glint of Amélie’s teeth as she opened her mouth to shout, “Go Lena!”

 

Amélie’s interjection elicited a round of enthusiastic whoops and cheers from the crowd, all seconding the comment.

 

Despite the ceremony bringing back memories of her time out of time, it was easy to smile with the room cheering.

 

Especially knowing it was all started by Amélie.

 

The man introducing her handed her the microphone.

 

Lena paled. “Oh, wow. I… do not know what to say.”

 

She thought about the one person she wished was there.

 

“I guess that I want to thank Dr. Winston. You all probably know him as the giant, fuzzy scientist, but for me, he’s the hero that was there for me when I needed him the most. I wish he could be here now.

 

“I’d also like to thank my new squad, and their family members, for being so welcoming, especially tonight. They’ve really really helped me get into the spirit of celebration, which I wasn’t sure if I could do tonight. Thank you all!”

 

Lena stepped away from the podium and off the stage. Immediately, she was greeted with a massive hand clapping against her back.

 

“Agent Oxton!” Reinhardt shouted drunkenly, “Very good speech! I am,” he choked up, “very proud of you.”

 

“Thank you, Agent Reinhardt. I meant it too, you’ve all been wonderful tonight.”

 

As Mrs. and Agent Lacroix walked over to the larger group, Lena watched Amélie whisper something in her husband’s ear. He nodded and gave a dazzling grin once they were within earshot of the group.

 

“Bon travail, Lena, fantastic speech!” he shook her hand and clapped Reyes, who happened to be next to him, on the back, “though I fear we will not be able to participate in the remaining congratulations. I am far too tired to stay much longer, and we have an early start, hiking, see?” he moved closer to Lena, to be heard without shouting, “Good job. I mean it. I look forward to working with you, Agent.”

 

“Thank you, sir. I’ll see you on Monday. Adieu, Mrs. Lacroix!”

 

Amélie waved. Her smile could have brought out the sun.

 


	3. Pink, Lavender, Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena goes for a run and runs into a friend.

Running was nice. It made her feel free, after the atrophying of her muscles while she was out of time. It was a slow build from strolls to jogging to sprinting, but now that she could run she couldn’t make herself stop. Three kilometers, once a day, a shower, and then work.

           

A brutal exercise, but one that kept her heathy.

 

One that kept her happy.

 

The sky was blue, but not the steel blue that tainted the world when she was gone. It was a navy, purple around the edges where the sun begun to rise.  She stopped at a bus stop to watch the sun come up and the colors change. She had nearly finished anyway.

 

Just as the whole of the sun became visible, a black sedan with tinted windows pulled up next to the bench.

 

No one was around but her and the car. Lena had mace. And she could fight.

 

The window rolled down.

 

Amélie stuck her head out the window. “Agent Oxton?”

 

Lena let out a breath. “Amélie! It’s so good to see you, you had me scared.”

 

She looked at her blankly. Lena remembered that Amelie wasn’t an English speaker.

 

“It is… good to see you as well,” she said after a moment of thought, “Wait, please?” She pulled her car to the side of the road, put on the hazards, and placed it in park.

 

Lena was once again stunned by her as she exited the vehicle. Though she was dressed much less formally, her outfit once again gave no indication of any human flaw. Today, she wore her hair in a high ponytail, round, blue-tinted sunglasses, a lime green tank-top, and form-fitting jeans.

 

Lena had to force herself to drag her gaze away from the small strip of skin revealed between the tank top and her pants.                                                           

 

 _Get a hold of yourself, Lena,_ she thought, as Amélie leaned against the bus stop.

 

“Bonjour!” said Amélie again, flashing the smile Tracer had spent more than her fair share of time thinking about.

 

“Hello, Amélie. What are you doing out so early?”

 

“I um… made… cookies. I want to be… utile. I will leave them at the office,” she said, flinching at her own words and hoping that Lena would understand over her accent - and that she was saying it right.

 

Lena, on the other hand was focusing on willing herself to stop blushing. Amélie was biting her lip thinking about her pronunciation, or her phrasing, or something, and Lena was far into it.

 

“D’you know common?” Lena asked, unconsciously leaning towards Amélie.

 

 “No, sorry chérie,” she said, as she shook her head, “I never learned.”

 

Lena blinked at the sudden pet name, “M-m-me, um, me n-neither.” She admitted, with an uncontrollable stutter. The sun hitting Amélie’s coffee-colored skin wasn’t helping Lena’s composure either, and combined with the light glinting off her hair, she was having an all-around difficult time.

 

“It is sad then. Neither of us speak the common tongue, oui? And we must speak better together?”

 

“R’you saying you want to learn it together, then?”

 

She shrugged and bounced her hair with her hands. “I would enjoy it if you could!” She smiled sheepishly and covered her mouth as she did so, mimicking her motion from the dinner.

 

“Well, Mme. Lacroix, I would very much like that!” as Lena said this, she knew she was thinking with her heart and not her head, but she couldn’t resist an opportunity to get even a little closer to this queen of a woman.

 

“Amélie, si vous plait. Unless you would like me to call you Ms. Oxten?” she spoke slowly and softly, still apparently worrying about her English.

 

Lena actually giggled, and then mentally kicked herself for doing so, as she was met with the feeling of blood rushing to her face. “That won’t be necessary. I’m afraid it’s “Miss” for now anyway.”

 

“Ah, single then? I must have your number before we part ways,” Amélie paused with a small smile and tilted her head, “To plan to study together, no?”

 

Lena was fairly certain she might explode. She looked back towards the rising sun to perhaps burn the enticing image of Amélie’s perfect lips pulled into a smirk out of her brain, and handed Amélie her phone.

 

“T’sall yours. Type in your name and number, and I’ll text you after work, if that’s okay?” She was fairly certain it was safe to look back towards Amélie. Amélie was five centimeters closer than when Lena first turned. She decided to risk the blindness.

 

“As much as I would enjoy that, Lena, I am afraid I am teaching today when Gérard gets home. I assume you return at the same hour?”

 

Lena had to look away from the hot white of the sun, and back into the browns and greens of the sun directly next to her. Spots clouded her vision as she said, “Just about, yeah. What do you teach?”

 

“I am a coach for rifle.”

 

“Military?”

 

Amélie shook her head as she said, “Non, I teach… Emmmm… périscolaire? Teen-agers.” Lena’s heart fluttered, admittedly, embarrassingly, at the insertion of French.

 

“Say that again?” Lena requested, holding up her phone to get a translation.

 

“Périscolaire,” Amélie said clearly, taking a distracted glance into Lena’s eyes.

 

“Paris milk” the phone translated. Amélie looked down and started laughing, seeing the phone’s interpretation of her words. “May I?” she asked, reaching a hand towards the phone.

 

Lena passed her the device. Amélie typed what she had said previously into the box, and handed it back to Lena.

 

 _“Extracurricular”_ read the phone.

 

Lena turned back to the other woman. “Do they compete?”

 

Amélie nodded and her eyes shone. “Yes. One was at, emm, les jeux olympiques.”

 

_The Olympic Games._

 

Lena suddenly remembered hearing Amélie’s name in passing while she was doing laundry with the television in the background the previous summer. Though she hadn’t known Amélie’s role until just then, she couldn’t help but feel the least bit starstruck. She glanced back down at her phone, away from Amélie’s face, to avoid another rush of blood to her head.

 

It was 7:34. She was meant to be at work nine minutes ago. When she looked back up to explain that she had to leave, Amélie was looking to her watch as well. Amélie _tsk_ ’ed.

 

“I have kept you too long. I now must let you go, oui?”

 

Lena nodded, “I’m sorry I can’t—” before Amélie cut her off with a hand on her shoulder.

 

“You have my number. Call me, Chérie,” she smiled, this time not covering her mouth and Lena flushed again.

 

Without further _adieu,_ Amélie turned, and promptly got back into her car.

 

Not before Lena noticed the Bi-Pride flag pattern on the back of her tank top, though.


End file.
